


The Secret World of Roman Prince

by Odaigahara



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - Borrowers Fusion, Animal Attack, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Good Friend, Culture Shock, Dehumanization, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Hurt/Comfort, Shrinking, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23257201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odaigahara/pseuds/Odaigahara
Summary: "It could be a curse," Roman said defensively, face flushing. It wasn't that he hated being laughed at- he was a performer, after all- but not even knowingwhywasn't fun at all. "Or something that hit the entire planet but was specifically keyed not to affect human DNA, like a reverse bioweapon. The- the effect could even be localized, like in that one episode of Spongebob but the other way around, and hopefully without a vengeful Plankton come to wreak havoc on the town. I don't see-"Virgil flicked his eyes pointedly at the wires along the wall. The figurative penny dropped."Oh," Roman said blankly. "I've shrunk, haven't I."*Or:Roman inherits a giant manor from his great aunt Patty and finds ADVENTURE! Side effects include discovering that all those pet Tiny ads he sees online are real and almost certainly unjust, pledging himself to a cause based entirely on five minutes of conversation, and fighting a bird with a sword.Predictably, things get a little out of hand.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 34
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman finds ADVENTURE! Also, he's kidnapped. The two are not mutually exclusive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be completely honest with you: this is an excuse for worldbuilding. I don't know why there's so much Borrower fic in the Sanders Sides fandom, but it's fun and I want in. 
> 
> No idea if there's gonna be romance, but if there is the two characters will probably be the same size for it.

Something poked Roman's face, and he scrunched his nose distastefully, turning his head away. Remus _knew_ he liked to sleep in on weekends. He would not be swayed by his twin brother's infantile provocations. He would _not_ get up before eleven in the morning, the perfect time for a romantic brunch, or failing that ten-thirty, which at least allowed for the sunlight outside to reach a warm golden tone. Early morning was occasionally acceptable, if it was to watch a sunrise or listen to birdsong in the springtime, but mostly it was bothersome, only serving to remind him of waking up early for school and the long slog from class to class. No, Roman decided, he wouldn't open his eyes for anything short of siege weaponry. Remus could go fuck himself, which wouldn't exactly be a hardship. He'd probably enjoy it.

Roman heard a sigh, and a weight fell on his chest. "Bombalurina?" he murmured, reaching up to pet the cat and expecting a soft _mrrr_ in response, but the surface he touched was _not_ fur. It was bristly and short like a hairbrush, room temperature exactly, and then it _moved_ and those were _not four legs-_

"Aaagh!" Roman scrambled back, throwing the creature off him, and hit the back of his head on a wall. "Ow!" His sight cleared. "Wha- who in the _world_ are you?"

The dark-haired man crouching in front of him smirked. "Hey, you. You're finally awake."

One of the men next to him huffed out a sigh. "Skyrim? Really?"

The other one giggled. "I think it's funny!"

Roman stared. He was surrounded by strangers. Why was he surrounded by strangers? “ _I_ don't think it is!” he burst out, because laughter and Bethesda references were simply too much. He’d just woken up. He couldn’t be expected to process such things, even if adrenaline had already shocked him to awareness. "Where am I? Have you _kidnapped_ me? You can't kidnap me and- and use memes on top of it, that's not allowed!"

"What, is it against the law?" the dark-haired one drawled. He clicked his tongue, and a black-and-white _thing_ skittered onto his lap. Roman clocked four glittering eyes, iridescent green jaws, and readied himself to leap into action to rescue this clearly deluded soul- and then the man plucked the spider off his legs and scratched it behind the head. He glanced up at Roman's pale face and grinned. "They're good spiders, Brent."

"You, sir, have taken this a step too far," Roman said, increasingly outraged. He got to his feet, honestly surprised that he hadn't been tied up, and pointed an indignant finger at his adversary. "Assuming you are a sir, that is, I'd hate to assume your pronouns- but that's besides that point! You dare to use the words of others to fight your battles?"

"What can I say? I work with what I have," the man said, offensively casual. He slouched, dressed all in black and hunched like a _vulture,_ and the dark smudges of makeup beneath his eyes only served to accentuate his corpselike physique. If ever there was a person meant to look like a villain, Roman thought, he had found him. "I'm Virgil, and these are Logan and Patton, if you were wondering."

"I wasn't," Roman said, even though he totally had been. "And I'm Roman, which you probably already know, considering you've taken me from my bed like the worst of criminals. What use am I to you, huh? Is it because of my role as JD in Au-Rene Theater's off-Broadway production of _Heathers,_ with added music from the West End version? Did my rendition of _Meant To Be Yours_ truly vex you that much, because I'm aware that I was a little off-key in the second-to-last matinee performance on April third, it's just that I'd gone clubbing the night before and lost track of time and really, the ensuing chaos backstage was _not at all_ my fault-"

"Has he actually not looked at his location at all?" one of the other kidnappers muttered to his partner in crime. The aforementioned partner- pale-haired, contrasting the dark hair and skin on his acquaintance- shrugged, grinning. Roman had no idea which of them had which name.

"And furthermore-" Roman's brain caught up to his ears, and he swelled in indignation. "I have _too_ looked at them!" Roman protested, turning on the pair. "A good hero, never mind an incredible _actor_ such as myself, is always aware of his surroundings! How else would I ever know how to accurately portray the trials and tribulations of tragically turbulent personalities such as JD's from... _Heathers..._ " He trailed off, staring at the floor. He hadn't realized when he'd been asleep on it, but it was one solid piece of wood, and the grains were as big as his fingernails. He looked to the walls next. Thick wood with little staples going up like stairs, wiring running along the high ceiling like crown molding, the outline of what looked like the back of an electrical outlet- and Virgil had held in his lap a jumping spider the size of a _cat-_ "Ariel's stolen melodic _voice,_ _what_ are my surroundings?" His voice went embarrassingly shrill, but he couldn't care about that. There was evil afoot. He had to prioritize. "Has the world become _gigantic?"_

The light-haired kidnapper sucked in a breath and shook, hands over his face. Roman regarded him in horrified confusion, sure that whatever terrible contagion the world had caught was _spreading,_ or perhaps the situation had finally caught up with the rest of them- and then realized, to his displeasure, that the other man was _laughing_. He was laughing so hard it was making him _cry_. "It's not funny!"

"I might scream," the second kidnapper said matter-of-factly. "I swear to all things science, I am going to scream."

"Awww," the laughing _jerk_ crooned past his giggles, "c'mon, don't let a few words get you so Lo-"

" _Patton-"_

"-gan!" Patton grinned at Roman, ludicrously friendly. "He's Logan. It's nice to meet you!"

"Likewise?" Roman tried. At least one of the kidnappers was amicable. "You... seem nice, I suppose. Do you know how this mysterious growth occurred?"

Virgil, who did not seem nice, stared at Roman in something close to incredulous horror. "Oh my god, you're such an idiot. How are you alive? Do beans just have less survival instinct? Do you not feel fear? How would everything have _grown?"_

"It could be a curse," Roman said defensively, face flushing. It wasn't that he hated being laughed at- he was a performer, after all- but not even knowing _why_ wasn't fun at all. "Or something that hit the entire planet but was specifically keyed not to affect human DNA, like a reverse bioweapon. The- the effect could even be localized, like in that one episode of Spongebob but the other way around, and hopefully without a vengeful Plankton come to wreak havoc on the town. I don't see-" Virgil flicked his eyes pointedly at the wires along the wall. The figurative penny dropped. "Oh. I've shrank, haven't I."

"The correct conjugation is _shrunk,_ if you're using present perfect tense, but in essence, yes. You have shrunk. We shrank you." The second kidnapper pushed his glasses up his nose, then held out a hand. "My name is Logan, but on occasion I am also known as Logic. _Yes,_ like the rapper. I am the one who built the machine that caused your current state."

Roman reached out and shook his hand. It seemed like the polite thing to do. "You shrank yourself too?"

Patton bit his lip. "Um, no, kiddo. Not quite. You're the only one who shrank, and it's _not_ because you saw a therapist. It's because we're Borrowers."

Roman blinked. He looked from one person to the other: Virgil, dressed in black with a jumping spider climbing his back; Patton, inching away from the spider and wearing little wire glasses and a fishing hook on his belt; Logan, watching him intently with a curious glint in his eye. Like one might wear while watching another species up close, for instance. Or while observing the test subject for the prototype one meant to use for whatever nefarious purposes-

"But tiny people don't exist," Roman said desperately, in what even he realized was a last-ditch effort to retain his worldview. "That's just- rich people just _say_ they do, like they buy all sorts of nonsense animals like teacup poodles or pigeons that can't even stand up straight. You aren't- they aren't _real._ Are you sure you didn't simply shrink yourselves and forget? Perhaps after receiving some type of head injury?"

"Do _you_ want to receive a head injury?" Virgil asked with a hint of a snarl in his voice. "Are you seriously telling me that you just never _believed_ we were being sold as pets? Is that actually your excuse for _profiting_ off-"

"Virgil," Logan warned, "he himself hasn't profited off anything. That's why we chose him, remember?"

"We chose him because we're living in his house," Virgil bit out, glowering. "We don't know his entire life."

"If he didn't know we existed, I don't think he could've sold us, though. Right, Roman?" Patton pinned him with the widest puppy-dog eyes he'd ever seen on a human being. Or- not a human being. A Borrower. Roman wasn't sure if that made the effect worse, since small things were nearly always cute unless they were spiders or venomous snakes, but nevertheless it was incredibly effective. He was suddenly, horribly aware of every wrong he'd ever committed in his life, up to and including the time he'd pushed Remus off a paddle boat and been attacked by a swan for his efforts.

"I've never even seen one of you before," Roman said. The reality of the situation was hitting him slowly, like an adventurer finding himself stranded in quicksand with no hope of freedom. He couldn't hope to step out, per se; all he could do was try to float. It helped that his new environment was wondrously, improbably fascinating. "Do those staples really hold your weight?"

"You _really_ think we're going to tell you-"

"They do," Logan interrupted, and Virgil gave him a look like an offended cat. "It's very useful. We can get anywhere inside your house through these walls." He cast an annoyed look at his emo nightmare of a compatriot. "He's going to be here for a month, Virgil. He was going to learn anyway."

Patton sucked in a breath, glancing at Roman like he thought he was about to attack; Virgil tensed all at once, a real feat considering how tense he already looked. Roman felt his heart leap into his throat. "A month," he repeated, half-hoping that one of them would laugh and reveal it for a joke. "You're planning on keeping me like _this-"_ He motioned at himself and then, well, everything- "For a _month?"_

Patton winced. "Well, you see-"

"I have bills to pay!" Roman burst out. "I have a mortgage, and job applications, and my brother's bound to come over at some point, not to mention that I'll have to get back to work eventually and meet the neighbors-" Who seemed like snooty _jerks,_ even if they lived maybe a mile away so he wouldn't have to deal with them much- "and, and, _responsibilities!_ I can't just take a month to explore a world I wasn't aware existed right under my feet, and meet new people, and see everything I'd previously taken for granted in a new and exciting light, and oh dear _god_ are you really serious?"

Only his natural heroic manliness kept him from squeeing like a little girl. Yesterday his world had collapsed into boredom, like a circus tent losing its foundations. Yesterday he'd been so sure that his time as a free-living actor had ended, and that he'd have to live all alone in an ancient house in the middle of the woods, wasting away like a more beautiful Henry David Thoreau without the love of nature to console him and only a cat and his trash rat of a brother for company-

And here was an _adventure,_ dropped right into his lap. Oh, there would be heroics and heartbreak, despair and the heights of joy, and they'd have to figure something out about whatever was going on with the pet thing, since they all seemed to feel so strongly about it... but an _adventure!_ Something to _do!_

The Borrowers were still watching him nervously, for some bizarre reason that may have had something to do with the excited grin spreading across his face. Well, faint heart never won fair maiden-slash-quest, and for all his faults, Roman never intended to go back on his word; surely the best option here was to ensure them of the same. "Virgil," he started, and the least interesting tiny person watched him warily, "Logan, Patton. Are you really serious? Will I really be here, tiny, living with you for a month?"

Logan said awkwardly, "We thought it would be the best course of action, in order to convince you of our sapience and ensure that you weren't a threat before we returned you. Something of an, ah, exchange program. If you will. Now, of course, it's beginning to seem increasingly unethical-"

"Unethical? Are you _kidding_ me? This is wonderful!" Roman felt himself coloring with delight. "Do you have any idea of the writers' block I've toiled under- the sheer _deprivations_ of boredom that I'd reached-" He surged forward and grabbed Virgil's hands, and the Borrower lurched back, face blotching pale. Well, whatever. If he couldn't see the noble and chivalric worth of Roman's actions, that was his problem, he'd just been the closest person in range. "Virgil, Logan, Patton. I swear to you, if you let me live here for a month- if you let me _explore_ here- I will devote the rest of my life to preserving your people's freedom and prosperity wherever I can."

It wasn't as if he could choose another option, anyhow. There were greater injustices, but Roman was only one man; he'd never be able to stop slaughter of civilians in war, or lift the poor from their poverty. There were reams of laws and obstacles that kept him from campaigning against his own government and military, and if he went to prison there'd be no one to keep Remus from crashing and burning after him. That didn't mean he was off the _hook_. It only meant he had to choose a different battle- and here one had fallen, right at his feet.

Also, Roman had to admit, he wanted to fight a bird. That seemed the closest thing to dragon slaying a man could achieve in this world.

Virgil didn't seem to have gotten the message. "What?" he choked out, yanking his hand back from Roman's grip. "You- what? We literally kidnapped you. We're trying to hold you prisoner. I've spent this whole meeting _insulting_ you."

"To be fair, Virge, you insult everyone," Patton said. He was looking at Roman with a soft frown, like he wanted to stare into his soul. Roman found it hard to meet his gaze. "Do you really mean it, Roman? You only met us just now, and you didn't know we existed until today. Are you really okay with helping us just like that?"

Roman's mind blanked. What else would- what, like he could just walk away, maybe find some obscure forum detailing the types of cages "Tinies" went into and browse a little, promise himself that it was fine and they definitely didn't mind being kept as property? Roman got antsy if he was cooped up in his house for a few days. He couldn't imagine how a Borrower felt, being supplied with a _hamster wheel_ or some nonsense, without even the privacy of their own room. Hell, he'd impale himself on a needle before letting captivity become an option. "Why on Earth wouldn't I be?"

"Right," Logan said, a little raggedly. "I. Really?"

Roman grinned at him. "On one condition," he said, and all three of his captors stilled. "I'm going to need a sword."

Virgil stared. _"What."_

"There's a grackle outside who won't stop harassing my cat," Roman said, "and all this time, I've been unable to retaliate due to my greater size. Now, finally, I can vanquish him in a fair fight. My victory will be legendary!"

"Oh, good, he's insane," Logan said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I should have predicted this."

"You couldn't tell that from literally _everything_ he's said so far?"

Roman stiffened in outrage, but Patton interrupted before he said anything he'd regret. "Let's maybe save the grackle-fighting for another day," he said, sounding a little nervous, but when he smiled at Roman, he was all sunshine.

"I think we've got to show him the _rest_ of our world, first."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> Also, stay safe out there and don't hoard hand sanitizer, at some point it becomes illegal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman gets the grand tour- or, well, a fourth of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted late, so there might be later edits for flow. 
> 
> TW's at end of chapter.

Borrowers, Roman learned, could do a hell of a lot with their limited resources. He was discovering parts of his Aunt Patty's house that he'd never even known existed: cracks in the foundation barely big enough to slip through sideways, passages under the floorboards and across the rafters, and niches where his kidnappers had left screws and buttons, even an old tarnished locket, in order to throw off suspicion. "If everything disappeared, beans might get suspicious," Patton explained as he dropped into the dark space. Roman copied him, half-expecting a lizard or scorpion to come charging out at them, but the niche was perfectly quiet. Patton sidestepped a rusty nail and continued absently, "Sometimes they lose stuff on purpose to see if we pick 'em up."

Roman finally caught his breath and asked, "So you only take half?"

"We eavesdrop," Patton said, propping his foot on the locket to wrench it open. Inside was a bunch of tiny bundles, small enough to fit in the palms of their hands; Patton unwrapped one and gave it to Roman, who took it with some bemusement. "Not just with our ears, though! We gotta watch how beans _act,_ not what they say. Sometimes you guys can get pretty shifty!"

Roman unwrapped the bundle, revealing a homemade protein bar. Patton took a bite of his, smiling encouragingly like a parent convincing a toddler to eat a new food. "So you can tell when something is lost on purpose?"

"Most of the time." Patton frowned pointedly at the bar, and Roman brought it to his mouth. The taste of meat exploded on his tongue, dry but not disgusting. Like camp food, he decided. Meant for calories more than taste. "Sometimes we mess up, though. That's why if you think you're found you have to move." He bounced on his feet, avidly watching Roman chew. "D'you like it? We made that batch last summer."

Roman swallowed and hedged, "It's... certainly different." The food was hardly unwelcome after running around a quarter of the house for three hours, especially when half that running had actually been _climbing,_ but Roman's tastes were decidedly gourmet. Or, at the very least, _refrigerated._ "Where to next?"

"That's it for this part of the house, but Virgil says we can't show you the other wings until we know for sure you aren't gonna sell us out," Patton said brightly. He went to the wall and started to climb another set of staples. Roman followed him gamely, only gasping for breath a little, and clambered after him onto a wooden beam. "This is the last stop," Patton announced, and Roman gave him an exhausted thumbs-up.

He braced his hands on his knees, resting a moment, then looked up and shrieked. Patton squeaked and tackled him, shoving a hand over his mouth. Roman kicked him on reflex. There was a brief, awkward wrestling match before Roman finally struggled loose. "What the _hell-"_

 _"Shhh!"_ Long-ingrained reflexes from backstage made Roman shut his mouth. "It's okay! It's just the Furby!"

"I know what it looks like!" Roman hissed, dragging Patton back to the farthest corner from the _thing._ Trust a tiny Pollyanna not to know a threat when he saw one. "Why is it in the _walls?"_

 _"Doo-dah,"_ the abomination cooed, apparently just at the sound of their voices. Roman raised his fists.

"It's the Furbstraction," Patton explained, still keeping his voice soft. "The Di-Furb-sion! We never decided on a name." Roman stared at him in incredulous horror. "One time we used it to explain noises from the walls. The lady who lived here before heard us one time, but Virgil'd found this weird thing in the neighbors' yard, so we set it up here and she found _it_ instead!" He glanced at the wall, conspiratorial, and whispered, "Are you sure you're the only human here?"

"Positive," Roman said, bewildered.

Patton beamed. Roman saw in it the shadow of his own death. "In that case-" _Oh, dear god-_ "Furbstraction, sing me a song!"

The infernal creature's ears twitched _. "Tee-wee-lah dee dah-ay-loh,"_ it warbled, and Roman, horribly, recognized it as a sinister approximation of _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. His memory involuntarily assigned the gibberish lyrics an English translation, a development he was certain would precipitate the demon's arrival in the human world. Patton started humming the same nonsense words.

It was like watching someone read the Latin in a horror movie; any moment now it would blink and start to move, creepy felt claws a-pattering as it turned to devour their souls-

The song concluded, surprisingly without violence, and the Furby's gaze drifted inexorably to Roman. He inched out of its field of vision, unsettled by the threat of a Furby that was literally _taller_ than him, and wished dearly for his katana.

Roman had sung _odes_ to his katana. He'd bought it at discount from an aspiring swordsmith at a Renaissance Faire, having fallen victim to love at first sight, and it had been amazingly sharp from the very beginning, perfectly weighted and perfectly balanced. He'd been prohibited from using it as a stage prop after a rehearsal mishap had landed him in the hospital, but its loveliness had won the sword a place by his bedside; he'd used to used it to practice forms from his _actual_ sword training.

It had served him well, lying within arms' reach whenever he slept. Once it had even saved his life, when he'd woken in the dead of night to armed figures rooting through his apartment- when they'd seen his silhouette and features and made the all-too-common mistake-

He shuddered and banished the recollection. Patton was watching him bemusedly, leaning on the Furby like it was a trusted pet, and Roman sent him a confident smile. Never mind all _that._ He had an adventure to get to, and new acquaintances to get to know. Even the horror of the animatronic decoy could be put behind them. "So! What other wonders do you have in store for me today?"

"Only the place we're sleeping," Patton said, giving the monstrosity one last pat. "It's the nicest, coziest hideout we have, and I'm not saying that 'cause I sleep in a tea cozy there! I know you'll love it."

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" Roman asked, dazzled by the thought of a tea cozy big enough to sleep in. "Lead the way."

The hideout was ensconced in a far corner of the house, untouched by sunlight, where some force of nature had worn a niche into the stone foundation. Patton slipped past a little scrap of gingham and waved Roman in.

Their dwelling was a hollow block the length of a medium-sized hallway, half of it bisected by a thick piece of plywood to create three little rooms. Roman nodded absently at Logan and Virgil, who were already inside, then stared around in bald amazement. Everything was so _eclectic._ It felt like dying and waking up in a dollhouse or video game, someplace impossibly fanciful. Roman felt glee bubble up in his chest.

The common area was furnished with pincushion beanbags, alphabet blocks that served as tables, and a trio of hot pink Barbie chairs. There was a tiny water bowl, filled to the brim and trembling with surface tension- likely for the spider, though the arachnid itself was nowhere in sight- and a coat rack made from a rusty nail, where Patton hung his knapsack.

The room was lit by a collection of finger lights, like a child might find at a dollar store. Roman counted green, red, and blue, but only the white was switched on; it cast odd shadows on the walls and gave the room a washed-out look, like the chiaroscuro in an old film. In another situation it might have seemed creepy, but to Roman it felt nearly nostalgic- furtive and playful, like keeping a light on after bedtime at a sleepover.

Roman decided he was in love.

The walls caught his attention next. They were covered in illustrations, some large enough to be murals and others only doodles. The most prominent were four stick figures: one purple, one yellow, and two in shades of blue. They were cheerfully childish, adorned with misshapen heads and little square glasses and surrounded by hearts and smiley faces; Roman thought he could hazard a guess as to who had drawn them.

"Do you like them?" Patton asked hopefully, and Roman mentally punched the air. "I drew most of 'em myself."

"They've got a great deal of heart! Though... is there another one of you I haven't met?" He could assume that the purple one was Virgil, and Patton and Logan both had glasses, but he couldn't recall meeting a fourth Borrower. Certainly not one who wore a cape like a Scooby Doo villain.

Patton's face fell, and Roman's heart plummeted. It seemed he'd stuck his foot in his mouth once again. "O-oh, um-"

"There are only three of us here," Logan cut in, some unreadable emotion flitting across his face. He rose from the pincushion he'd been sitting on, brushing dust off his lap. "However, we do have a spare bed, which you will be using while you're here."

Virgil stiffened. "Hold on, _what?_ I thought we were making him sleep out here."

"It would be antithetical to our cause and to Patton's sensibilities to force a guest to sleep on the floor," Logan said censoriously. Patton nodded in firm agreement. "We have another bed. There is no reason not to use it."

"Are you kidding me?" Virgil demanded. "It hasn't even been three months yet. We can't just _write him off_ like some lost toddler-"

 _"Virgil!"_ Patton snapped, and the other Borrower flinched like he'd been hit. Patton's eyes were suspiciously wet, and Logan was looking away, mouth set. He continued, quieter, "Not right now, okay? We have to be polite to our guest."

"I can sleep on the floor, if you'd like," Roman offered, trying to hide his nerves. Patton shook his head.

"We have a bed," he said, stubborn. "You're gonna use it. You've been kidnapped. The least you deserve is a _place_ to nap."

Virgil snorted, clearly against his will, and the tension broke. Logan's shoulders relaxed; he cleared his throat, taking back control of the conversation, and said, "Thank you, Patton. Please remember that we travel to another shelter in the morning, and thus should sleep now to achieve optimal rest. I will take first watch."

"There's a watch?" Roman asked, unable to help himself. Virgil stared at him in disgust.

"No shit, Sherlock, of course there's a watch. We live in the _walls_. Anything could sneak up while we're asleep." He looked to Logan, dismissing Roman completely. "I'll take second," he said, glare softening. "You've been working too hard, L. At some point you're just gonna collapse."

"In the vernacular," Logan said, smile teasing at his lips, "I'll sleep when I am dead."

"I sure hope not, 'cause then you'd have to be dead in three hours," Patton said firmly, "and that's not gonna happen, so you're _dead_ wrong." He herded them off to bed, practically nipping at their heels; Logan sat back down, pulling something out of his bag and starting to read.

The bedroom held two makeshift beds, with dish sponges covered in cloth as mattresses and soft knitted squares for blankets. Virgil's pillow looked as if it might once have belonged to a dollhouse; Roman's was a tiny plush snail, likely some child's discarded toy. He sat on the sponge tentatively, testing his weight, then burst into a grin when it proved stable. This had been the third most exciting day of his life.

Everything about the situation was magnificently improbable, each moment yielding new wonders; Roman could have contented himself for days just exploring this hideout, brainstorming new ways to use his belongings to furnish tiny houses or make effective weapons. He felt delight at the inspiration fizzing up inside him, begging to be shared- but when he turned to Virgil he met a poisonous glare, so cold that it robbed him of his smile at once. "Is- something wrong?"

"What do you think?" Virgil bit out, slipping into his own bed. "Go to sleep, Roman. We're getting up _early,_ in case you forgot." Roman faltered, unsure how to respond, but Virgil didn't give him the chance; he curled on his side, facing the center of the room, pulled his blanket up to his chin.

Roman curled up in bed himself, pushing down an entirely unfounded stinging in his eyes. The blanket was downy-soft, barely scratchy at all, and the sponge was just long enough that his feet didn't hang over the edge. He lay there a long time, trying to drift off, but it was all too unfamiliar; he wasn't accustomed to someone breathing in the same room.

He and Remus hadn't shared a room since they were ten. When their parents had decided Remus was a lost cause, they'd given the sole bedroom to Roman and exiled his brother to a foldout couch across the house. They'd said that keeping Roman from the negative influence of his twin would do both of them some good.

He could still remember what it had been like to share a room with his brother, though- could remember the sound of another body tossing and turning, the secretive gleam of a flashlight under covers, the weight of someone else's gaze on his back. He kept closing his eyes and slipping into memories, thinking for a moment that it _was_ Remus beside him, that he could turn over and there he'd be, safe and uninjured and close enough to watch. Stupid, really. Remus was probably still miles away, doing whatever it was he did when he lost another job.

It was ridiculous, mistaking the presence in the room for his brother. Virgil didn't even snore.

Another forty minutes, and Roman gave up on emptying his mind. He fidgeted closer to the wall, pulling the knitted square over his shoulders, and felt a strange pattern on the wall near the edge of the mattress. He blinked hard, trying to improve his dark vision, but it was a futile effort; he had to trace it with a finger before the shape became clear.

A chill traveled down his spine. It was a two-headed snake, coiled and rearing, far too neat for Patton to have drawn. In all likelihood, no one but its artist had ever known it was there.

Suddenly facing the wall didn't seem like such a good option. Roman turned onto his back, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, and went over his lines from _Heathers_ until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of child death, implied/referenced child abuse


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman takes a trip outdoors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No TW's for this chapter!
> 
> Also, thanks to GoldenMeme for beta-ing

The night passed with incremental slowness, unfamiliar location keeping Roman at the edge of wakefulness. He knew the phenomenon well enough- he'd gone to college, after all- but that didn't make it any less irritating. He had a quest in the morning. He had to impress, or his tiny kidnappers might decide to kidnap someone else, and then where would Roman be? Back in his dead Aunt Patty's home trying to choke down cream of mushroom soup, most likely.

Or dead, if his suspicions about Virgil's suspicions were correct. If Borrowers were truly so persecuted, surely it would be best not to leave witnesses. Roman was certain he would prevail in a fight with Bickerin' Little, but he wasn't certain about the spider. Sneak attacks were right up a jumping spider's alley.

It seemed barely a second before Virgil was stepping out of bed and tying a raggedy poncho around his shoulders. Roman had no clue how he knew it was daylight at first, but then the sounds filtered in from the outside world: the rapid chirps of a chickadee, the shriek of a grackle, even the distant, haunting coo of a mourning dove. Dawn in the Florida countryside was ridiculously loud.

"Rise and shine, everyone! It's a beautiful day and you're all _cute-_ iful people, and today we're going on an adventure!" Patton ducked through the cloth door just as Roman was getting up, grinning with more pep than a cheer squad on a sugar high. "Are ya ready, Roman? Roma-loma-ding-dong?"

Virgil squinted at him. "What?"

"I'm trying to think of nicknames!" Patton said. "Virgil's Virge, Logan's Teach, I'm a dad-"

"You are?"

"He's not." Virgil rubbed his eyes. "Call him Sir Sing-A-Lot, he's been humming since he woke up."

"I have not," Roman said, indignant. "I've been mumbling lyrics! That's practically singing."

"Shouldn't he be Sir Sing-A-Little, since we shrinked him and all?"

"Shrunk." Virgil frowned. "Shrank. Whatever. Sing-A-Lot, get dressed."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Roman protested, trying in vain to straighten out his hair. One of their tiny lairs had better have a tiny mirror, and perhaps a Barbie's comb. "Am I meant to be in pajamas this whole time?"

"We'll get you some fabric today," Patton promised. Then he frowned. "You can sew, right?"

"Of course! Where could an actor be without the ability to make his own costumes?"

"You're _sew_ right. I'm glad I didn't needle you about that any more than I had to!" Patton dug around under Virgil's bed and came out with a second, duller poncho, black plaid rather than purple. "Here, wear this." Roman took the poncho with only mild distaste- needs must, even if it looked as musty as it smelled- and pulled it over his shoulders with a flourish.

"What's the purpose of this, anyway?"

"Warmth, protection from thorns and spider fangs, blends in," Virgil listed, sounding bored. "So, y'know, feel free not to wear it."

Roman scowled and straightened, turning to Patton with as earnest a look as he could muster. At least none of them seemed to be wearing shoes, so footwear was no issue. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"To the woods," Patton chirped, and Roman felt a trickle of trepidation. "Not super far, since we're innies, but it's about time for some of our friends to come through, so we're just gonna check. And maybe get some grapes! It's a little late for blackberries, but we can see if there's any left, and the bean here before you had a _pretty_ nice garden."

"She did?" Roman wasn't much for gardening, but he thought he might remember that. Aunt Patty had always had on a sunhat and knee pads in his sparse memories of visiting her. "I suppose I remember that. Is that frankly frightening gnome still present?"

"I think it fell over," Patton said.

"We made it fall over," Virgil elaborated, "because it's creepy as _shit."_

Finally, something they could agree on.

Logan was in the front, packing a quartet of tiny satchels and muttering excitedly under his breath. Roman saw him step back and hop up and down, eyes bright, and then the nerd glanced up and went still, adjusting his glasses with all the embarrassment of a cat who'd missed a jump. "Ah. You're awake. We're still in the crepuscular phase of the morning, so the lighting is conducive to stealth, but the pleasant conditions won't last long. We should move quickly."

"It's _dawning_ on me that Roman's never walked through tall grass before," Patton said, "so I really think we should leave now! Roman, Virge, I'll pack some food you can eat on the way, okay? We have an entire tube of Ritz crackers."

"Not exactly the pinnacle of nutrition, but it will do," Logan agreed. Roman and Virgil took their respective satchels- not as heavy as Roman would have thought, which bolstered him quite a bit- and filed out to the open space between the walls, where Patton climbed a few feet and tossed down half of a cracker. An eighth of a Ritz cracker tasted oddly bready at such a small size; Roman had to brush off some of the salt, and then it was like eating weird biscotti, or maybe a botched attempt at a calzone sans filling. Presumably, this was how mice felt all the time.

"What do you do about mice?" Roman asked. "I can see that you've roped your food up there-" Like hanging supplies from trees in bear country, though Roman's one memory of that sort of venture had ended in Remus actively _attracting_ grizzlies- "but surely you meet them occasionally?"

"Smack 'em with sticks," Virgil said, "yell a bunch, avoid them- they're not the ones we have to worry about, as long as we avoid their nests. Wild rats are worse."

"Wild rats?"

"As opposed to domesticated," Logan explained, "though of course, being Borrowers who live primarily indoors, it would be unwise for us to raise any."

Virgil snorted. "Last thing we need's _introducing_ a pest problem."

Their speech was soft, like a heartfelt conversation at four in the morning. Roman could hear them well enough, being just as small, but it was an effort not to raise his voice. As a human, he doubted he'd have heard them at all. Like mice, hiding in walls. He supposed that made sense, even if it did cramp his style. "You domesticate rats?" Roman asked, starting to grin. "Can you ride them into battle?"

"Battle with who?" Patton asked, and at the same time Virgil said, "Nah, other tribes know how to counteract 'em."

Roman stared at him beseechingly- tell him _more_ , how dare this dreary buzzard leave him hanging- and he elaborated, shoulders drawing in, "'S an outie thing."

"Virgil originally lived in the swamp," Logan said, Patton looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Not that we're particularly close to it now, of course."

They ducked through a gap in the foundation, Virgil creeping through first and waving the rest through. Roman picked his way across the boulder-sized pebbles, bits of grout and brick that the elements had knocked loose, and emerged into a whole new world, shining, shimmering, splendid.

He also emerged into an unfortunate realization. "Oh, damn, I forgot to feed Bombalurina!"

"Who?"

"He means the cat," Virgil said, and suddenly Patton was drawing closer to Logan, knuckles white on the strap of his bag. Virgil glared. "Are you saying you left it hungry?"

"Excuse you, Moldemort, Bombalurina's a she. A lovely, fluffy old dowager who deserves our respect and is also, coincidentally, not technically my cat! It's not my responsibility to feed her, I just- well, it feels bad. She's basically deaf, you know."

"Sounds like a cat beans should keep indoors," Virgil accused, "where she can't _eat people."_

"I'm not sure I've ever seen her so much as stare at a bird," Roman said, though the Borrowers' nerves were starting to catch. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. "It's possible she's also partly blind. Though since she belongs to the neighbors and I'm currently five inches tall, I don't think there's much I could do about the situation if I tried."

"It's true that she's never shown signs of aggression or prey drive," Logan mused. "How old did you say she is?"

Roman had to think about it. "At least fourteen? Though of course I can't be sure."

They crept along the edge of the house, staying to the bases of elephant ears and behind gigantic red-orange bursts of bird of paradise, dim sunlight dappling through the leaves to guide their steps. Roman kept stopping in wonder, trying to commit the glow of dawn behind the blooms to memory or staring at fat honeybees with their fluffy little pollen pants; Virgil kept yanking him along, pressing him against the wall and glaring at the bees like they posed a threat. Patton and Logan didn't blink at them, though, so Roman chalked up his behavior to general paranoia. Probably Virgil believed the moon landing had been faked, too.

The birdsong was beautifully exuberant, humidity still in the early-morning haze that was nearly pleasant if you weren't out too long. It had rained a little the night before, to Roman and Patton's pleasant surprise; Patton detoured to stomp a drop caught in a leaf and splashed himself up to his knees, giggling. Logan squinted at the sky and predicted more rain later, likely no more than a light drizzle. Virgil hissed at the clouds, apparently on principle.

Finally they came upon a slim little game trail, leading through the overgrown grass to the woods at the edge of the property, and Virgil waved them forward with hushed instructions for Roman: "No loud noises, go one at a time, if you see the cat for the love of shit do _not_ engage. If I whistle, that means there's a problem and we scatter- get to the house if you can, if not there's a boulder in the garden you can slip under. See it?"

Roman nodded. "What sort of danger-"

"Just focus on the response and you'll be fine," Virgil bit out. "Probably. Fuck if I know, life is terrible and feels only spite. Try not to get eaten by anything."

Patton nudged him. "I'll stick with you, okay?" Roman smiled at him.

They stepped through the grass, Virgil's footfalls entirely inaudible and Patton and Logan's only slightly louder. Roman tried his best to copy their mannerisms- walking heel to toe, moving his feet forward through the air instead of up and down, like an odd fluid shuffle- but he still tromped like a giant made small. Fee-fi-fo-fum, he supposed. Even someone as wondrous as himself couldn't win them all.

A trip that would have taken perhaps a minute for a human took fifteen for the Borrowers, every one of them fraught with tension. More than once Virgil tensed, holding up a hand, and the Borrowers all ducked down, sidling into the grass and watching the sky anxiously. Once Patton saw a grass spider and froze, going pale as milk, but Virgil tossed a pebble at it and it skittered away over the blades. "Watch for a web," Logan whispered, and Roman started watching his step a lot more carefully.

Once a shadow passed overhead and Virgil ducked under a leaf, Patton dragging Roman under similar cover. The hawk- for it _was_ a hawk, a redtail with a dreadfully large wingspan- reeled and disappeared back over the trees; Virgil waited another minute, watching the sky with a bodyguard's vigilance, then waved them out again.

They reached the edge of the forest and reconvened in a hollow between the roots of a live oak. "Well, that was hawkward," Patton giggled, and Logan banged the back of his skull against the bark. "It's a good thing Virgil has such an eagle eye!"

"We really should be more careful," Logan said, circling around to the other side of the tree. He dug into the soft dirt at the base of the trunk, humming to himself, and came up with a bundle wrapped in microfiber cloth, like might be used to clean glasses. "Yes!" Logan hissed, bouncing once in clear excitement, then unwrapped his find and tucked the spool of copper wire into his knapsack. "This shall be ideal."

"What's that for?" Roman asked. It looked like it might make a nice weapon, not that he would ever use something so sneaky and uncouth as a garrote, but- "Wait, don't tell me. You're planning on time travel as your next feat!"

"Was that a clumsy reference to _Back To The Future?"_ Virgil asked.

Logan said at the same time, "No, this is for electronics. How did you think we managed to reduce your size so drastically?"

"Logan's really smart," Patton said, throwing an arm around the nerd's shoulders. Logan looked to be in a good enough mood that he actually allowed it. "That's why the outies call him Logic! They don't like using real names."

"'S bad luck," Virgil muttered. The whole time they'd been talking, he'd been watching the sky and the canopy, eyes flicking around for threats. An assigned sentry, then; likely the best option, considering his familiarity with the terrain. "I usually went by Anxiety."

"I'm Morality when I'm in the swamp," Patton offered. "Not that that happened more than once, but it was a thing. A fun thing."

"Sounds like it," Roman said, bemused. He was entranced by the sounds of the forest, the details of the roots and each speck of dirt. Each breath was a riot of color. "Are we really going further in? Shouldn't we be armed?"

"Nah, if there's any nomads they might take it as a threat," Virgil said. "Also, bright things like needles make you super obvious to birds, and I don't trust you not to stab yourself as soon as you turn around."

Roman bristled. "I have sword training!"

"Whatever, Sing-A-Lot." Virgil led them to the shade of the next tree in, a smaller oak languishing in its elder's shadow. Then he tossed up a grappling hook- the hook itself was painted black, presumably for bird-avoidant reasons- and scrambled up to one of the lower branches before giving a high, whistling trill. Patton winced, Logan shrinking closer to the bark; Roman perked up, wondering if he could copy the noise.

A short silence. Then an answering chirp echoed through the trees, three short trills and a longer whistle, and Virgil brightened, sliding down the trunk in a smooth, excited motion. "They're fifteen minutes away," he said, "at the usual place. They've found some grapes."

"You got all that from a single whistle?" Roman asked, and Virgil rolled his eyes.

"Obviously." He actually almost smiled, anticipation lightening his glower and making him look younger. Roman realized with a start that Virgil was probably no older than seventeen, or at least a borrower's equivalent of it. "Now come _on_. If it's who I think it is, she won't have the patience to wait." He grinned, fierce and startling. "We've gotta hurry if we want some of the goods."


End file.
